


Bad Dreams

by Simon_snows_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simon_snows_pitch/pseuds/Simon_snows_pitch
Summary: Baz has a nightmare during 5th year, and Simon comforts him
Relationships: Snowbaz - Relationship, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a request I received on tumblr for a one-shot.

~Baz’s Perspective~

_There’s thundering footsteps and yells from outside the nursery. The double doors are kicked in, and pieces of the wooden frame splinter off and fly across the room. All the children are screaming and crying. I’m standing there, helpless. I try to run to them—to protect them—but it’s no use. The vampires tear the heads off everyone, and then head for me. Me? It’s a younger me, still full of life and color and his own blood, but not for long. My mom bursts into the room. I scream for her, pleading her to turn around and leave. She can’t hear me. She never hears me. One of them turns to her, grabs her by the neck, and—_

“Baz. Baz, wake up.”

Someone is saying my name, shaking my shoulder with a firm hand. I sit bolt upright in bed. My chest is heaving, and I’m covered in a layer of cold sweat.

“Baz, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” I look over and see Snow talking to me. His hand is still placed on my shoulder. It’s so warm. And tender. I meet his eyes. “A dream, Baz. That’s all.”

But it wasn’t. I mean—it, it was, of course. But it happened. I still can’t breathe quite right. I try and collect myself, to force my body into some type of composure. I realize he’s still holding onto me. Snow is crouched by my bedside and looking at me, his big blue eyes full of concern. His stillness calms me, just a bit. 

“Sorry,” I say shortly. I don’t know what else I can say. I don’t appreciate being caught in a moment of vulnerability like this, but I’m not sure how I can salvage it. And his hand is so tender and welcome. If I disturb the moment, he might never touch me again. If he keeps holding me, I might dissolve entirely.  
I don’t say anything else.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I just . . . you were . . . .” He stops mid-thought.

“I was what, Snow? Spit it out!” Anger. Yes, anger is welcome right now. 

He sighs heavily. “You were screaming”— _I was screaming?_ —"but it’s fine.”

“What did I say?” I ask, trying to conceal my wariness. Snow’s been on me long enough about being a vampire, and he’s spent practically this whole year trying to catch my sucking the blood out of some poor creature. It’d be a shame if I betrayed my biggest secret when I was sleeping. 

He scrubs his free hand back and forth through his hair for a moment. Crowley, how I want to run my hand through those bronze curls. Finally, he speaks. “You weren’t really yelling anything in particular. Just, I dunno, _yelling_.” He hesitates. “You did call out for your mother though.”

Oh great, just what I needed. Simon all-powerful Snow to catch me blubbering about my mum in the middle of the night. A lock of hair falls in my eyes, and I realize that I’m shaking. Have I been quaking like a leaf this entire time? Seven snakes, I must be losing it. 

Snow lets go of my shoulder, and some part of my heart sinks below my navel. Then he reaches his hand toward my face and tucks the stray lock back behind my ear. My breath hitches. Does he even know what he’s done to me?

He resumes talking, acting for all the world that there’s nothing strange about tucking back the hair of his sworn nemesis in the middle of the night. His eyes are downcast and his voice low when he says, “You know, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I get it. I’d fucking hate it if you found me having a nightmare. But I do. Have them—nightmares.” He meets my eyes, an earnest expression on his face. “It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone, Baz.”

With that, he stands and walks back over to his bed. I’m still not sure I’ve taken a breath, but maybe I don’t want to. If I do, that means the moment is really over. Snow clambers back under the covers and rolls over with his back to me. His breathing slows, mine resumes, and I suppose that’s the end of it. Until I hear a very soft “G’night, Baz.”


End file.
